At All Costs
by VampOfTheDeep
Summary: The Scoobies have faced the ultimate evil, and they have won. But all is not well; a new trouble is brewing.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_"To dare to live alone is the rarest courage; since there are many who had rather meet their bitterest enemy in the field, than their own hearts in their closet." –Charles Caleb Colton_

"And so the lone bus drove onward, a giant Twinkie speeding towards the burning horizon. The passengers—I guess they would be the squishy white cream stuff—sat quietly, for they were exhausted after such a great and triumphant battle. I myself was a proud and obviously brave part in the fight against the ultimate evil, which I guess you would call the hungry fat guy trying to chow down on the Twinkie and all its creamy occupants, and—hey, give me that!"

"No way," said Kennedy as she snatched the worn video camera out of Andrew's hands. The Slayer, who sat next to a sleeping Willow, shut the camera forcefully. Andrew flinched, hoping she hadn't broken it.

"Giant Twinkie?" the dark-skinned Slayer sitting behind Andrew questioned. Rona shook her head. "Okay, you need some serious simile help."

"It's a metaphor!" Andrew objected resentfully, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat. Dawn Summers, who sat next to Andrew, offered him a friendly grin.

"I'm no good at English either. I only got a C plus last semester."

Andrew was rather offended by that—his English grades were always at least a B minus! Seeing the resentment in his eyes, Dawn shifted awkwardly away from Andrew and looked out the grimy bus window at the scenery (or lack thereof) quickly rushing past.

Dawn had been, and still was, unsure of how to react to all the things that had happened today. As she watched the sun slowly retreating behind the desert landscape, she wondered if it had really only been one day since they had all walked through the doors of Sunnydale High. It felt like weeks since that had happened. It couldn't have been this morning!

All that Dawn was sure of was that she was way too tired to be thinking about all this now, so she shut off her thoughts and closed her eyes, gladly welcoming the warm unconsciousness that sank over her.

In the meantime, Kennedy fiddled around with Andrew's camera, trying to figure out how to turn the dang thing off. It wasn't working, considering that Andrew's snack food speech was droning on screen again.

Finally she raised the camera up over her head, fully intending on smashing the thing on the ground. Before she could do so, however, a large bump in the road rattled Willow's head against the window and woke her up.

"Here," Kennedy said agitatedly, shoving the camera into Willow's hands sans explanation. "Turn it off."

The redhead witch inspected the contraption a second as she reoriented herself from her nap, nodded a little, and pressed the power button. Andrew's voice stopped immediately, much to the relief of the Slayers seated close.

"I thought we got rid of this already…" she muttered and began to hand it back to Andrew.

A shocking "No!' came from a nearby seat, and in a split second, Rona was sitting back in her seat, camera in hand.

"Unless you wanna be compared to a Ho-Ho, you _really _don't wanna do that," Rona explained.

"That would be dumb," Andrew pouted, fixing a bitter stare at the back of the seat in front of him. "Willow would be an Oreo anyway."

"Well…thank you," Willow replied hesitantly, glancing at Kennedy. The other girl just shrugged.

---

Half of Alexander Harris was missing. Physically, emotionally. And as much as he tried to ignore it, tried to be happy and joke around with his fellow warriors on the bus, he just couldn't.

His eyesight was half gone. It had been stolen from him a while ago, and though Xander wasn't angry about it much any more, the realization that he would always be this way nagged at his mind, whispered in his dreams. He'd managed to forget it during the battle they'd just fought. But when he was being pulled out and suddenly noticed Anya wasn't with him, he had remembered. And he hated it.

Anya. This he hated even more.

Anya was dead.

There was no other way around that fact. And as he sat on the bus, oblivious to what was going on outside his subconscious, he realized that she had been such a huge part of him throughout the past few years that it felt as if he had left his heart buried in Sunnydale's remains (or lack thereof) with her. And that royally pissed him off, to put it kindly.

So for now he planned to sulk, and he planned to sulk for a long time to come, thank you very much. Sure, he'd fake his happiness for a while if he had to, but until he came to his senses and decided to move on, which didn't seem like a nice idea, he'd be here, wandering around his thoughts, just half of himself. Just half.

---

_I bloody hate this fluorescent contraption, _thought Giles as he drove the bus over another pothole. He heard a few waking gasps from the people trying to sleep behind him, and was going to shout out an apology, but decided against it. No one really cared, it seemed…

People didn't seem to care about a lot of things these days—not the Scooby Gang, in particular, but people in general. The human race. He'd been listening to the radio, as quietly as possible, and although static was mostly all that talked to him, he had not heard a single thing about the destruction of Sunnydale. And he was sure that _someone _had realized that there was a gigantic crater in the middle of California by now.

But maybe it was for the better that an investigation hadn't started quite yet. Having enough time to get away and clear themselves of association from the city would be safer for all of them, since they could set up an operation anywhere, at this point.

An operation for what, though? There was no big evil at the moment to conquer, and even if there were Giles would highly consider letting someone else deal with it. He was _not _about to let this group go through something so traumatic again. Especially Buffy. She'd pulled all of her strength into this battle, and she'd given all of herself to win. How tired she must be…

Heaving a sigh, he wished he could clean his glasses, but driving through a desert didn't really leave him that option. He'd just have to bear with the dust particles for now. Bollocks.

---

"I don't feel like cookie dough any more."

"I…I'm sorry?"

Buffy Summers looked away from the dirt-decorated window to see a rather confused Vi sitting in the next seat over. After a moment of watching the young Slayer Buffy let a small laugh escape her throat. "Oh, sorry, I…I was just thinking of something that happened last night."

"Oh," the girl said. There was another pause, and then Vi looked back at Buffy. "Cookie dough?"

"What happened was…" Buffy struggled to find the words, trying to avoid any mention of _another _of her vampire boyfriends, "well…let's just say I feel like a burnt cookie. Too long in the oven."

Vi's stare didn't let up for a few more seconds. "Oh," she muttered. "Why cookies? Maybe—"

"Maybe she could be brownies," a voice from ahead interrupted. Buffy looked at the seat in front of her and saw Faith, her arm around a sleeping Robin, her head turned to face them. "They take longer to bake. And we all know B takes longer than most people on that dough stuff."

Buffy smiled, ignoring Vi's growing confusion, and leaned forward a little. "How're you doing?"

Faith smirked and traced her fingers up and down Robin's arm. "Five by five. Ya know."

"How about him?" Buffy looked at the back of Robin's head as it rested on the Slayer's shoulder.

Faith looked down at the dark, sleeping face. "Mm, probably three. Maybe four."

"At least he's getting some rest," Buffy offered, wishing she could sleep as easily as Robin. He'd given them all a good scare earlier, but Giles had said he'd be fine with enough time to heal. Sleep was the best thing for him. It was probably the best thing for everyone, actually, now that Buffy thought about it. But she didn't feel like sleeping—not yet, at least.

Faith snorted. "Dunno how, the way this crap-mobile drives."

"I beg your pardon?" came Giles' voice from the front of the bus, where he'd been driving the vehicle since Sunnydale.

"Not you, G-Man, the bus!" Faith said, sending Buffy a look.

There was no retort from Giles, and Buffy wondered how tired he was. A yawn graced its presence on her mouth as she thought that, and she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. As she closed her eyes she thought again about the talk she'd had with Angel the previous day. About the amulet, about the second front he was probably still planning, about Spike…

She wondered what would have happened if she had gone against Angel's will, if she had used the amulet instead of giving it to Spike. Granted, it would have looked much more stylish on her, but other than that…what would have happened? Would Spike be the one sitting on the bus now, and she'd be the one who burned to death? She tried to push those thoughts out of her head—things had happened the way that they did for some reason or another, maybe, and there's nothing she could do to change it.

As the pleasant stillness of sleep began washing over her, Buffy sighed. She really did feel like she'd spent way too much time in the oven lately.

---

_What's this? I'm alive? Yes, it's true. I've just been writing other non-fan-fictiony things for a while now (or sometimes just writing nothing at all). I posted this once, got to the third chapter and gave up. But I've finally decided to bring it back. Hopefully I can keep it up. If you have anything to share; reviews, thoughts, ideas for the plot...I'll take anything! _

_Thanks for reading. Here we go...lights, camera, action!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_"Evil is obvious only in retrospect." –Gloria Steinem_

The howling was the worst part.

Cameron had accepted the fact that his older brother was a werewolf. Well, he told Pierce that he'd accepted it. But to be honest, the whole thing was too scary for Cameron to get over. Especially that howling…

The sixteen-year-old turned up the volume on the TV and sank even lower into his favorite chair, hoping doing so would block out reality.

It didn't. The growls and sounds of claw striking metal tore through the current sitcom's laugh track like a knife. And every sound tore through Cameron the same way. At least, he told himself, he'd convinced Pierce to chain himself up in the basement instead of running around out there…inside was a much safer place. It always was.

A rather unpleasant cry, louder than the others, drifted up through the floorboards, and Cameron jerked up. Should he go check on Pierce? That sounded painful; but then again, turning into a werewolf probably wasn't the most enjoyable experience. But what if he hurt himself?

_There's nothing you can do right now_, Cameron told himself. _He'd tear you to shreds if you got near him._

That was a weird thought all on its own. Growing up, Cameron and Pierce had always fought in the way that all brothers do, but the image of his brother actually being able—and willing—to kill him was, to say the least, troubling. He'd have to be more careful about ticking Pierce off from now on. He didn't know what could set him off. Other than the full moon, of course.

There was a lot he didn't know about Pierce, now that he thought about it. How did this whole "changing" thing work? What went through his mind when the moon was out? And who had bit him in the first place, anyway?

Cameron guessed that all the answers would come in time, and there was nothing he could do about it now. Maybe there were books about it, but he didn't think the public library would have a copy of "Werewolves for Dummies". He quickly changed the channel, completely ignoring the fact that he should be doing his homework, and hesitated before changing the channel again. The screen blinked and showed him a news report. He nearly switched the station once more, but the giant words "CALIFORNIA DISASTER!" running across the bottom of the screen distracted him. He pushed himself forward in his seat and turned up the volume.

"…taking us live on the scene with Kathy Collins. Kathy?" said an Asian woman at a desk. The scene changed and the comfortable stillness of the newsroom vanished. Now a shaky, dark picture appeared, and a pale reporter fought to remain the focus of the rapidly moving camera. Seriously, it was like the Blair News Reporter Project. "Yes, thank you, Margaret. I'm here just outside of Sunnydale, Cali—" She hesitated, her words catching in her throat. She kept her composure, though, and continued. The camera stilled a little. "I'm here outside of the 'Sunnydale Crater', as the experts are currently calling it. Earlier today, a number of calls from around the state claimed that the phone lines in Sunnydale, California were dead. After some investigation, it was discovered that the town had…had disappeared."

There was disbelief in the reporter's voice. Cameron's eyes widened. Disappeared?

An image of a massive hole in the ground was shown from above, but it wasn't until the reporter continued that Cameron realized how big of a hole it was. "The entire town," the TV voice said, "is missing, and in its place is a gigantic depression, spreading miles in length and depth. No cause or reason is yet known, but the amount of missing people reports is growing. I'm going to try and get an interview with the chief of police, if he'll—oh, sir! Excuse me!"

The doorbell rang, and Cameron jumped in surprise. He didn't get up for a minute; he was staring at the TV screen in disbelief. Sunnydale? That was only a few cities away…

The ringing came again, and in quick succession came heavy pounding on the door. Reluctantly, Cameron stood up, lowering the TV's volume on the way, and made his way to the door, still shocked. The knocking had stopped, and he wondered if whoever it was had left already. Hopefully; he didn't want to deal with anyone right now. People weren't his favorite thing in the world on a usual basis, and the noisemaker in the basement probably wouldn't help anything.

One more bell sounded as Cameron reached for the doorknob. So they weren't going away. Fine. He unlocked and opened the door, letting the warm air seep in through the opening.

Two men stood on the porch, both tall and somehow a little intimidating to Cameron. They looked a little older than Pierce, and Cameron puffed out his chest and stood his full height. They looked like punks. One of them even had chains on his pants. Still having to look up to them, he asked, "Can I help you?"

"Pierce home?" said the one closest to the door. He had spiky black hair and shockingly bright blue eyes, and there was something off about the way he held himself. As Cameron glanced at the other guy, he determined that these weren't people he or Pierce should be hanging around.

Looking back at Blue-Eyes, he shook his head. "Oh, no, he's out tonight."

"Is he?" the guy replied, his eyebrows arched. "Didn't think he would be."

"Yeah, well…he is. Sorry," Cameron lied and backed his way toward the comfort of indoors.

Before he closed the door, he glanced up to see both sets of eyes staring at him, and then Cameron was blocked from the outside world again. That was it. Neither had stopped looking at him the entire time. That's why they seemed so creepy…Had they blinked? He wasn't sure, but he told himself he was turning into a conspiracy theorist and to stop it.

He held the doorknob a few seconds, processing. He'd never seen these guys before, and he was pretty sure Pierce would have told him if he'd made new friends. Of course, the way Pierce had been acting lately, who knew what he would do? Even when he wasn't a monster, he acted harsher than he ever had before. Grumpy on steroids.

He began to walk back to the couch, but froze when he passed by the huge window at the front of the house. He could still see the two guys on the porch. He attempted to be stealthy as he moved back behind the curtains and peered through the glass. The two of them were leaned toward each other, talking. Cameron seriously started to consider calling the cops on them. Or maybe he could sic Pierce on them…

That wasn't funny. He scolded himself the instant the thought passed his mind, and shook his head. When he looked back out, he was relieved to see that they were leaving, heading down the walkway.

The two of them stopped as soon as they reached the sidewalk, and Cameron nearly lost sight of them. He poked his head farther out from the curtain and saw them both look up into the night sky.

The other guy, who had longish brown hair, pointed up, and the two kept talking. Cameron wished he could hear them, and he completely stuck his head out in front of the window, trying his best to see what they were pointing at. He could see the silver haze from the moon, and a few stars here and there, but his view was limited by the porch roof.

His eyes darted back as the guys started moving again. They were walking away, crossing the street at an angle. Cameron leaned back a little, his nerves settling.

Just as the two went out of sight, he saw Blue-Eyes turning his head. There was only a second of wondering what he was looking at before their eyes met, and in that moment Cameron's heart missed a beat.

He jumped back and pressed himself against the wall. Taking in a few breaths, he told himself that he was overreacting. They were just two guys, the worst they could be was a bad influence on Pierce.

He told himself hesitantly that he had a good job in sending them away and looked carefully back out the window.

No one, nowhere. They were gone.

Cameron stared out the window until a sudden upset howl made him stand straight, and he cringed, imagining what Pierce was going through. He again wanted to go check on him, but the images of sharp claws and fangs dripping blood and full-body fur and those piercing golden eyes that could rip apart his soul scared him into keeping the basement door shut and locked tight. He walked back to his chair and sat down, but couldn't get comfortable and stood back up, clicking off the TV as he went. A disturbed restlessness came over him as he wandered the Brody household, and try as he did he couldn't get himself to eat or read or do homework. He'd even forgotten about the gaping hole being reported on the news. So he did the only thing he could do; he went to his room, climbed into bed, and started dozing.

He could see the full moon through his window, looming over him in the sky, taunting him with its glow. And on the moon he thought he could see those depthless blue eyes staring at him.

And before he fell asleep, Cameron could hear the moon. He heard it whisper, _I've got him, Cameron_. _He's mine now, and I'm not giving him back._

Cameron closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, the cruel voice echoing in his mind.

_I've got him, Cameron._

_He's mine._

---

_Everyone, meet the OC. He likes long soothing bubble baths, long walks on the beach, and...wait. No he doesn't. That would probably lead to a Mary Sue, and hopefully I'll be avoiding that with all these characters. Anyway, here's hoping I can get chapter 3 written - it's where I got frozen up last time I tried this out. Enjoy!_


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